


undying devotion, feel you in my core

by The_Consulting_Werewolf



Series: i blame all the sexy songs for this [9]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Body Worship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Consulting_Werewolf/pseuds/The_Consulting_Werewolf
Summary: As an acolyte, Junmyeon knows barely about physical pleasures, until he catches the eye of one Wu Yifan.





	undying devotion, feel you in my core

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Changdeol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Changdeol/gifts).



> chapter title taken from the song 'Holy' by Zolita
> 
>  
> 
> the invocation used by Yifan in this fic is taken from Neil Gaiman's Amercan Gods

The sun rises on another day and the people in the palace stir awake. Some are ready for the day, rushing to clean and wash the pavilions, the vast rooms and gardens in anticipation of their guests from the other kingdoms. Some still fight the persistent tendrils of slumber refusing to let them go.

The Palace of the North houses the Jung Dynasty, ruling the land from the frozen glaciers to the rolling hills at its borders giving way to valleys. And from today, their week-long festivities for the Moon Goddess begins. 

The whole palace and the town have been preparing for the seven days to come. This annual festivity not only attracts visitors from far flung places, the king and queen also extend their invitation to the neighbouring kingdoms. Thus, it becomes an excuse for kings and queens of other kingdoms to catch up and gossip, and for princes and princesses to find someone eligible.

Each year, the former Lord Wu's only son joins his friend, the prince of the southern kingdom, Minseok, on the family's journey to the north. Lord Wu thought it was a great diplomatic gain to have his only son so close to the crown prince while his son, Yifan, is just here for the travelling and the free reign he has of the royal library. And the friendship of course; despite whatever his father might have thought, Minseok has a lot affection for Yifan and vice versa.

Minseok and Yifan are travelling in the same wagon. Yifan is cracking walnuts with his teeth while Minseok winces. Minseok's betrothed, Prince Lu Han, too stares agape at Yifan and his walnut-breaking prowess. The prince whistles, "Yifan, your teeth will fall off. And you are much too young to lose your teeth."

Minseok groans, "Don't worry love, he has been doing this since we were children. I am surprised his teeth haven't fallen out of his skull yet."

Yifan rolls his eyes and pops the nut in his mouth. The couple grin at his affronted face. He is terribly bored; the journey is taking them longer—Yifan can see twilight descending on them. Usually, they would reach before the sun dips beyond the horizon but a sudden broken wheel in one of the four wagons in their party had them halting for almost two hours.

By the time they reach the North Palace, the sun has truly descended and the lamps are alight, flickering a bright yellow as they step down. The three men are welcomed warmly by the royal family. Minseok apologises for his father's absence, the king is recovering from a rather serious fever, and the queen didn't wish to leave her husband's side.

Now comes the part that Yifan is accustomed to but Minseok loathed: while Minseok and Lu Han are given rooms within the king's complex, Yifan being only of the nobility, a couple of ranks lower than the royals, has to room elsewhere. Not that Yifan minds, he knows this is the way the world works, Minseok still sends him a pout and Lu Han minutely shakes his head in displeasure. Yifan pats his friend ok the back and says, "See you at supper."

Yifan has been to the palace before and he is usually given a room close to the main gardens. But this time, he is escorted to west of the palace, and he gets an explanation, when asked, from one of the servants carrying his trunks, "We had rather a terrible case of termites in those rooms. The queen, in a great hurry, had these rooms built. I hope they are to your liking my lord."

Yifan nods, not that bothered since he realises the view on this side is equally splendid. The former king was a huge nature lover and he ornamented his palace not with jewels but with flowers and trees. The western garden is a riot of colours, with every possible summer flora in bloom. The smell is sweet and heady and the new complex seems comfortable and spacious. He finds some known faces and talks to them on the way to his room. His chamber is situated at the very end of a long corridor, keeping him isolated from the other guests (this delights him much; he can do without mothers of other noble families trying to set him up with their sons or daughters). The room is moderate in size but tastefully decorated; the walls are a light yellow which is accented beautifully against the dark wooden floor. The view from the large window, opening into a small balcony, however, is glorious. A frangipani tree greets him with its pristine white and yellow tinted beauty and fresh, citrus scent. He smiles and presses a gold coin in the servant's hand, saying, "Very much to my liking."

The servant bows, a small smile on his face. He straightens and says, "My lord, I will be at your service during your stay here. I seek to attend to anything you need."

"Thank you, uh, your name?"

"Yixing, my lord."

Yifan nods and Yixing moves on to unpack his things. Yifan flops down on the bed and thinks if he can squeeze in a nap before the dinner. Somehow, listening to Yixing flit about his room lulls him to sleep. After a few minutes, he hears someone call him, so he peels an eye open to find Yixing smiling down at him, "Sorry my lord, but I was asking if you want me to come wake you up before the supper?"

Yifan grunts, "Yes, yes. That'd be great."

Yixing dismisses himself and Yifan falls back asleep. 

Yifan's sleep is rudely awoken by someone singing right under his window. Yifan is not the lightest sleeper, but he isn't the heaviest either. He wakes up, ready to admonish when he stops, his mind freezing. 

The voice belongs to a man and it has to be the sweetest voice he has ever heard. He gets curious and pads towards his window. He pushes the silk curtains aside and his breath catches when he finds the owner of the mellifluous voice.

It's a man, as Yifan knew, but it was the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his whole life and in the two countries he calls home. The man is in the garden picking flowers under the moonlight, the silver light falls on him and at first Yifan thinks it is a trick of light but then he realises that no, the man does have long, light-coloured hair. Yifan frowns, he has only ever seen such hair on men and women from the lands beyond. But the man has eyes like theirs, lidded and slant.

Suddenly, the man looks up and his small pink mouth parts in surprise. Yifan could duck behind and save them both the embarrassment, but he doesn't. He stands perfectly still, his gaze steadfast on the beautiful man with hair like moonlight and almond-shaped eyes blinking at him.

The man has his long hair braided but a few errant strands escape and frame his face, which is round and sweet. For some reason, he can't look away either. And Yifan feels this urge to perhaps jump down his window and ask the man his name, and touch his luminescent skin, just to ensure this isn't some phantasm. But before that impulsive thought can register, Yifan hears the doors to his chamber opening. He looks behind to see Yixing entering with a basket. He looks back down again and finds the man gone. Now, Yifan is left wondering if he just dreamt the man in the garden up or not.

Yixing goes on to prepare his bath. Yifan strips and gets into the warm, scented bath. He asks, "Yixing, can I ask you a question?"

Yixing stops folding clothes and replies, "Of course my lord."

"Is there a man living here with light, almost silver hair?"

Yixing widens his eyes and he is glad the lord can't see him. He slowly clears his throat and answers, "Yes, my lord. Junmyeon, he is one of the acolytes at the Temple of The Moon lord."

"Ah." Yifan sinks into a silence, his mind occupied by the man.  _Junmyeon_.

Yixing escorts Yifan to the dining hall and leaves the lord at the doors to rush towards the temple. He knows Junmyeon picks flowers from the garden, entering through the small gate at the wall. The guards never stop him since he is an acolyte, a person already deemed holy and above other human fallacies.

Yixing has known Junmyeon for a long time and he was the only few allowed from the outside to talk and be near him. As an acolyte of the temple, Junmyeon isn't allowed to interact a whole lot with the outside world. And adding to that, it is his obvious beauty that has attracted unwarranted attention ever since.

Yixing is worried, he knows the Lord Wu for only half a day, but who knows what might happen next? He needs to warn his friend.

He finds Junmyeon easily enough. The man in question is in his room, braiding his hair, picking out the moonstone and zircon pins to put in his hair. Junmyeon finds Yixing heaving at the doorway, having run all the way here, in his reflection, and he smiles, "What brings you here?"

"You were seen Junmyeon," Yixing huffs as he sits down on the floor by Junmyeon's feet. He passes the other a crescent shaped pin and says, "I told you not to come at the back gardens for the next two weeks!"

Junmyeon blushes as he twists his hand in his lap. He speaks, his voice low, "I know I was seen Yixing."

Yixing's eyes widen. "You saw him too?"

Junmyeon nods, his cheeks getting redder, "Who was he? He was very, um, good looking." He bites his lip, knowing Yixing is about to explode.

And Yixing does, "Junmyeon!" He peeks out the door and turns to frown at his friend, "You cannot say such things!"

Junmyeon blows his cheeks out and scowls. So, what if he found the man handsome? He exactly doesn't have great references but there was something about the tall man with the thick eyebrows and sharp eyes. He remembers how he couldn't look away and he recalls how his heart thumped, not in fear but something else—something Junmyeon doesn't have a word for.

Yixing is still frowning as he helps Junmyeon braid his hip length hair, pinning small sparkling hair pins of lunar designs at each twist. He tells Junmyeon it is a lord from the country that borders theirs, a place from where Yixing comes from originally before his marriage. Lord Wu Yifan, Junmyeon rolls the name in his tongue, only mouthing it, and he thinks he likes the name. By the time they are done, Junmyeon's hair looks like the stars have decided to land on it and rest for the night. Yixing admires it and pinches Junmyeon's cheeks, who whines, "Xing!"

The other reason why Yixing is allowed to be freely around Junmyeon is because they are more brothers than friends and it would hurt Yixing if someone ever hurt his friend. 

Yixing cackles when he lets Junmyeon go, "At least now there's some colour in your pale, sickly cheeks!"

Junmyeon cups his cheeks, slightly smarting, as he huffs, "Could have lived without your help."

Yifan is sitting by Lu Han and Minseok when the royal party announces that it is time to go down by the river and officially begin the festival. The first day of the festival begins with the current monarch lighting a lamp and setting it afloat on the river, sending their gratitude to Mother Nature. The priests and their acolytes chant prayers and sing songs of the four seasons before lighting more lamps and sending them swirling down the river.

Yifan rather likes this part; the fireflies come out and the summer night wind is delicious, cool and crisp. He follows the party, explaining the rituals to Lu Han since this is his first time.

The temple joins them soon enough and Yifan finds Junmyeon instantly. He quite forgets how to breathe when he notices the way Junmyeon's hair sparkles and how pale his skin is, the white robe almost translucent against his skin. Slim bands of silver adorn his wrists and neck, he has a handful of flowers and Yifan is entranced. He has truly never seen someone this beautiful. 

Then, to his surprise, Junmyeon's eyes find him too and they widen slightly before his lips slowly curve into an uncertain smile. Yifan inhales deeply and ignores the wild tattoo of his heart as he smiles back. 

Junmyeon looks away immediately and Yifan cannot tear his gaze from the jewels twinkling in his braid, like Junmyeon is carrying his own galaxy, trapped in the strands of his hair and Yifan can't help but not want to fall into it.

In fact, Yifan's gaze stays on Junmyeon throughout. And Junmyeon feels it, he knows if he looked back he would find the man staring back. But he shakes it off, he has to get down in the water. 

Some members of the royal party follow and step into the water, the ones who wish to thank the greater powers and ask for blessings for a good year ahead. Junmyeon stays at the back of the line. Some acolytes and priests help the royal party to light the lamps. To his surprise, and delight, Yifan finds him and asks, "Could you help me?"

Junmyeon realises the man is taller, much taller than he expected, from him. Junmyeon feels shy and stares at the broad chest draped in a dark red brocade jacket. He nods and Yifan continues, "Do we put the lamp the front side first? The last time I tried, I sank it."

Junmyeon smiles, taking the lit lamp and gently placing it on the water. He looks up, bravely even though his heart rabbits in his chest because Lord Wu is even more handsome up close and Junmyeon bites back a gasp. His skin prickles at the way Yifan is looking at him, a spark of fire in his dark eyes. He hears Yifan mutter, "Your eyes...they are grey."

Junmyeon stumbles back a little, surprised at the deep, low voice. However, his feet gets stuck in the mud and he feels himself about to trip back when something grasps him by his elbow. Tiny fireworks alight under his skin and he feels like he is burning from within. When he looks up, he finds Yifan staring down at him, his eyes flash with a hunger, a desire. His nostrils flare and Junmyeon knows this is very, very wrong but the way he burns, it feels right.

Junmyeon murmurs as he drops his gaze, "Thank you, um?"

A deep voice trembles, "Call me Yifan...Junmyeon."

Junmyeon gasps as he looks up, "How does the lord know this servant's name?"

Yifan gives him half a smile and says, "We have a common friend, it would seem?"

Junmyeon widens his eyes in realisation before breaking out into a small grin. "Yixing?" So, Yixing  _did_ talk about him.

Yifan nods; they are at some distance from the main crowd when they hear water splashing and the chanting beginning. Junmyeon looks over and Yifan lets him go, albeit with much disdain. The acolyte is even more breath-taking up close. He watched Junmyeon wade through the ankle-deep water and he sighs. The acolyte is such a strange man, even the colour of his eyes are different. Beautiful still.

The tail of Junmyeon's braid skim close to his hips and as he walks, Yifan's eyes rake over the rather shapely proportions of the man. The robe wraps tightly around his body, which is short but fit—broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, but the way the robe hugs his posterior, Yifan deems it downright indecent. He inhales sharply and bites down on his lip. A sudden need sparks inside him and he looks up at the moon, already begging her for forgiveness for the sin he wishes he could commit.

A day passes, Yifan is invited to hunting but he hardly pays attention. His mind is filled with the silver-haired man and his dazzling smile. He knows he must be busy at the temple and he knows that if he visited, he won't be able to meet Junmyeon either since acolytes keep within the inner sanctum. 

But on the third day, Yifan meets him again. In the early hours of the morning, he hears shuffling noises in the garden. He springs out of bed and rushes towards his window. There in the garden stands the object of his summer dreams, his hair tied in a bun atop his head and dressed in a dark purple robe. Yifan doesn't care for stairs since the window isn't that high. He lands comfortably on the balls of his feet after he swings his feet over the railing. He straightens, squares his shoulders and walks over.

Junmyeon is standing under the frangipani tree, picking up the flowers fallen on the ground. He chucks some in the basket and puts a handful up to his face to take a huge whiff of the fresh, citrusy smell of the white flowers. He looks up when he hears footsteps and at first, he is alarmed, but then he finds the short-haired lord walking up to him, a lazy smile on his face. Junmyeon drops the flowers into the basket and bows. He murmurs, "Morning, my lord, I hope I didn't ruin your rest."

Yifan shakes his head. His head suddenly buzzes, loaded with the scent of frangipani and something else—something like the scent of ocean and wood smoke. He wonders if it is coming from Junmyeon. He says, closing in, "No, not at all. I am an early riser." Junmyeon smiles as he bows his head. Yifan asks, "Are you picking flowers for prayer?"

Junmyeon nods again. "I pray to the water goddess every morning."

Yifan tilts his head to the side. "Water goddess? I didn't think she was that popularly revered here?"

Junmyeon laughs, his cheeks lifting and his eyes turning into crescents (Yifan positively forgets how to breathe), "No, she is my personal deity."

Then, Yifan sees it. The grey eyes and silvery ashen hair-- Junmyeon looks like the splitting image of the goddess that artists draw onto temple walls and sculptors carve from marble. His mouth drops in shock as he whispers, "You...you..."

Junmyeon feels his face heating up; he can tell the lord has made the connection, so he nods, "Yes, my lord. When I was born, they were all surprised by my hair and eyes. My mother believed I was the reincarnation of Suho. So, did the temple." 

Yifan asks him what he does at the temple, and they start talking. Yifan realises that Junmyeon is not only the most beautiful man he has ever seen but he is highly knowledgeable about art, mythologies and poetry and as they stroll through the garden, Yifan discovers they have common favourites. The taller man is crowing inwardly in delight that this man beside him is simply perfect.

They stop over a bridge, where they look down at the fishes swimming by. A soft breeze blows through the garden, lifting the strands of hair at Junmyeon's neck and makes them dance. Yifan, before he can stop himself, touches one strand, twists it around his finger and whispers, "You are beautiful Junmyeon."

Junmyeon takes a deep breath and his rosy lips part. He finds himself trapped under the heated gaze of the lord and he doesn't even step back when he steps closer. 

This close, Yifan notes how Junmyeon has the faintest mole on the top of his lips, and how his skin is truly blemish-free. His eyes trail over those lips, and down the neck, brushing over the collarbones peeking out. He then frowns when he sees a rather angry welt there. He barely touches it and he feels mad that someone would hurt such a creature as gentle and beautiful as Junmyeon. He glares at the obvious print of perhaps a bamboo rod on the surface of Junmyeon's collar and asks, "Did someone hurt you?"

Junmyeon flinches, more at the touch on his skin than at the question. He jumps back and bows, "I, uh, I need to go. Goodbye, my lord."

Before Yifan can stop him, Junmyeon scurries away. He stands there in the garden for a while, fuming. He doesn't know how long he stands there till he hears footsteps. He looks behind him to find Yixing bowing at him. "Good morning my lord, I served your tea in your room."

Junmyeon was sent to the temple the moment he was old enough due to the unusual colouring of his hair and eyes. He was seen as divine and revered highly. His mother didn't even question when the temple declared the baby was the earthly image of the water goddess and let them take him away. Even now, some people inside the temple are afraid to even look at him. However, that doesn't mean that Junmyeon has respite from punishments from the High Priest if he stumbles.

Yixing tells Yifan this, after the noble enquired about the acolyte, and about the time when Junmyeon came of age two years ago, how a nobleman wanted to buy him, keep him as a slave. The temple obviously refused and pushed Junmyeon deeper into the inner sanctum. 

Yifan chews his lips. Why does his need to reach for Junmyeon increases when he learns how impossible it might be to get to him?

Junmyeon is combing his hair as he thinks about the lord. He is running the comb through the determined tangles at the end of his hair as he reminisces about the touch on his neck. He drops the comb in his lap and smiles as he touches the spot on his skin. 

Unlike the pain inflicted by the High Priest the night before, Yifan's touch didn't feel wrong, unholy as he had been taught of touches from men on the outside. It warmed him, deep into his soul, lit a blaze he is trying so hard to ignore. And those eyes, so dark, so intense. Has anybody else ever drowned into them?

Then, that deep, rich voice. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear it, feel it brush over his skin and make his head buzz, so pleasantly. They had talked for so long that day and Junmyeon loved how he could have a proper conversation about the things that fascinate him with someone. He pushes his hair to one side and cups the side of his neck. For the first time in his life, he suddenly aches for someone else to truly touch him, to feel him, to understand him, body and soul.

He gets to his feet and his chest heaves when he comes to the conclusion. Is it okay to feel this amount of want for a man he has only known for four days? Against his best judgement, he had visited the garden yesterday as well and then left in disappointment when he learned the nobleman was away on a picnic.

Junmyeon sits down on his bed and chastises himself. He shouldn't even be thinking about the man in the first place. He is an acolyte, he is not supposed to have wants of the flesh, nor know desire and carnal ache for someone's touch this badly.

But he can't be blamed, can he? Sure, acolytes aren't allowed to involve with the outside, doesn't mean they do not engage in wanton activities inside the four walls, whether to pleasure themselves or others. Junmyeon, too, partook in it but with disastrous results. He hated the whole process of it, he knows his partner was only seeking their own pleasure. He had shied away from sex since but he sighs and shivers when he thinks about the nobleman from the south with the dark eyes.

That night, as he parts his legs and writhes on the sheets, he comes with the man's name on his tongue, and he wonders why he feels no shame in that.

Yifan, a man of books, always finds himself in a library, no matter where he goes. The palace library is already thoroughly perused by him; he needs new stimulus, so he heads for the library adjacent to the temple. He had heard about this place plenty before: it boasts a collection that is said to rival the palace's itself.

(Also, covertly, Yifan wishes to run into Junmyeon. But if you asked him, he would say he only seeks to brush up his knowledge on certain poets.)

Yifan gains access to the library easily since he learns Yixing's husband is the main custodian of the place. The short, cheerful, bespectacled man greets him with much enthusiasm and shows Yifan the poetry section. 

The custodian, Baekhyun, waves his hand over the rather huge collection and quips, "I'd like to think this is a collection to outshine every palace, eh, my lord?"

Yifan smirks; the man has no qualms about being informal with nobility it seems, and honestly, Yifan doesn't mind. He nods as he touches the spine of one book, "This is spectacular."

Baekhyun soon leaves him alone after inviting him to tea after he is done, telling him he is available in his office if Yifan needs anything. Yifan agrees to the invitation and watches the man leave.

As he is about to pull out the book whose spine he was caressing, he hears a very familiar voice humming. His heart starts beating a bit faster as he tries to follow it, find it. And find it, he does. He would recognise that hair anywhere after all.

Junmyeon is in the row ahead of him, his long, light ash hair loosely braided and dressed in far more practical robes. Yet, his beauty still manages to shine through the drab grey of his robes and the unruliness of his hair. 

Junmyeon doesn't see Yifan approaching him, he is far too engrossed in the book in his hand. Yifan smiles when he recognises the cover.

Yifan steps beside him and Junmyeon is startled to see him, but his surprise melts away into a smile that has Yifan wondering if this man wasn't truly a divine being as he is thought of.

The acolyte says, "Lord Wu? I am surprised to see you here."

Yifan smiles, "I was bored of the palace library you see. I needed something new to occupy my time."

Junmyeon nods, "We do have an excellent collection."

Yifan nods along as he inches closer, Junmyeon's shoulder now pressed against his chest as he taps his finger on the book in the latter's hand. "An excellent collection of erotic poetry even?"

Junmyeon's plush rosy lips part, his eyes widening the slightest in surprise. He fumbles when he notes how close the taller man is standing to him, "I, I—" But then he commits the grave mistake of looking into Yifan's eyes, which are glimmering with an intensity that weakens Junmyeon's knees.

Yifan leans closer still and turns the pages. He softly gasps, "Ah! I always liked this one." Junmyeon almost whimpers when he feels Yifan's lips brush against his ear as he reads in a low, velvety voice, "I lift to you my bowl of kisses, and through the temple’s blue recesses cry out to you in wild caresses."

Yifan knows this poem by heart, so he glances at Junmyeon, whose face is flushed and he is panting, his eyes glazed, unmoving from the page, and Yifan then knows that this desire is not his alone. He dips his head, his nose touching the soft, jasmine-scented skin behind Junmyeon's ear, and he continues, "And to my lips’ bright crimson rim the passion slips, and down my slim white body drips the shining hymn."

Junmyeon feels like each cell in his body is on fire. Yifan's hot breath fan over his skin, which is suddenly so sensitive. His heart quickens and his head swims at the proximity, at the words and at the promise. This is the sweetest torture; the voice is like ambrosia and sin and Junmyeon licks his lips when Yifan stops. He braves a look and he gasps at the hunger in Yifan's eyes. Before he can think, before his body can catch up with his brain, he leans upwards while the other man leans down and their lips crash with an urgency that has them both reeling. 

It just feels the most natural thing to do, when Yifan pulls Junmyeon close, the latter gives in. His large hands wrap around Junmyeon’s waist and the acolyte whimpers when Yifan uses his tongue to part his lips. Junmyeon has never felt like this from just a kiss—not that he has kissed a lot of people, but no one kissed him like Yifan is kissing him. The noble’s mouth is insistent, soft yet harsh, commanding and Junmyeon tries his best to keep up against each sensuous brush of tongue, each slide of lips, seeking, soothing yet agonising in the sweetest way. 

Junmyeon's head swims, his lungs ache but he cannot,  _does not_ want to cease kissing Yifan. The taste of the man on his tongue and the feel of the lean body against the hammering of his heart in his chest is too much and not enough. It is Yifan who pulls back from the kiss first and Junmyeon can’t even bring to open his eyes, his body still burning and his head buzzing. He feels thumbs brush against his lower lip and he groans; Yifan had nipped and sucked on it previously and it is now swollen and slightly painful. But Junmyeon doesn’t mind; his eyes slowly flutter open and when he sees the nobleman looking as disheveled as he feels, Junmyeon sighs.

Suddenly, Junmyeon hears someone calling his name. He gasps and tears himself away from Yifan’s arm, but the man is faster and grabs onto his wrist. His voice is low and harsh when he whispers, “You know where to find me Junmyeon, I will be awaiting you tonight.” He presses his lips to Junmyeon’s knuckles and smiles.

Junmyeon takes a staggering breath, and to his surprise he finds himself nodding. He just consented to something he shouldn’t have, and if the High Priest ever got to know, Junmyeon will be heavily punished. But as he runs out of the library and almost crashes into his friend who was waiting for him, he knows he has no regret agreeing to it.

The moon is at its brightest today and somehow, Junmyeon wonders if she understands. The Moon Goddess after all, is supposed to be on the side of secret lovers and clandestine indecencies. Junmyeon smirks as he pulls the cloak tighter around him. He had spent a lot of time making himself decent; if he is going to give to the helpless lust he has for that man, he might as well be looking his best.

He slips under the darkness, past the guards who are too engrossed in their card game to notice and he has always been light on his feet. He carefully walks down the gravel path and to his surprise, finds Yifan standing at the balcony, dressed in a black robe embroidered with threads that sparkle under the moonlight. Junmyeon pushes the hood of his cloak down and smiles; the taller man smiles back and points at the deck to his right. Junmyeon nods, he understands he has to enter the house that way.

By the time Junmyeon steps on the deck, he finds Yifan standing there. He pulls Junmyeon up and crushes him to his chest before cupping his chin and kissing him the same breathless way he kissed him in the library this afternoon. Junmyeon smiles as he winds his hand around Yifan’s neck and tangles his fingers into the hair on his nape. Yifan pulls back first, their lips separating with a pop and he grins down at Junmyeon, who is trying to push air back into his lungs. The taller man whispers, “I knew you were going to come.”

Junmyeon inhales deeply as he licks his lips, and says, “How could I not?”

Yifan curls his fingers around Junmyeon’s wrist and pulls him down the corridor. They stop in front of a room at the end of it and Yifan pushes the door aside. Junmyeon steps in and pulls off the cloak he was wearing as he hears Yifan bolting the door. If Junmyeon was having any doubts before this about leaving, they are gone now. If he has to be punished for this in the future, so be it. He turns around and finds Yifan watching him, his eyes widened slightly as he rakes his gaze over Junmyeon’s body.

The room is lighted by lanterns hanging from the wall besides the scented candles alight in a corner of the room. The warm light falls on Junmyeon and his rich red robe and Yifan feels his heart stutter. He notes that Junmyeon had tied off his hair to the side by a matching ribbon as well, the end of which he is twisting in his fingers. Yifan steps closer, his hand rising to brush the errant strands of hair behind his ear. His fingers come to rest on Junmyeon’s jaw, halting, just to take in the vision before him, the sublime contrast of the jewel red against porcelain skin, and the latter takes a deep breath before grabbing Yifan by the neck and pulling him down to kiss him.

Junmyeon has to rise on his toes to reach Yifan’s lips, but he doesn’t mind, not when Yifan groans and puts his hands around his waist, pushing him close so there is no space left between them. Junmyeon parts his lips and his other hand moves to cup Yifan’s jaw as the latter licks into his mouth. A ripple of heat passes through Junmyeon’s body and he melts into Yifan’s embrace, abandons himself to the insistent way the older man’s lips move against it and the way his fingers dig into his skin, the warmth of them seeping into his skin, past the layer of silk.

Yifan is drowning in this—Junmyeon's sweetness and compliance. He could keep kissing Junmyeon forever, but he wants more. So, he breaks the kiss only to attach his mouth on the pale column of Junmyeon’s neck. His senses get filled with the heady jasmine scent he had gotten a whiff of this afternoon and he sinks his teeth into it, eager to leave his mark, eager to somehow make Junmyeon his.

Junmyeon gasps when he feels Yifan suck a mark into his neck. His entire body jerks at how much it hurt, but also at how  _good_ it feels and his thigh ends up pressing right against Yifan’s crotch and he hears the older man pant against his skin, his arousal revealed to Junmyeon, which makes him quiver. His mouth moves lower and lower, leaving heated kisses along the expanse of Junmyeon’s skin and the latter whimpers in impatience. He suddenly wants less layers between them.

Perhaps, Yifan is having similar thoughts because he suddenly leans down and putting his arms behind Junmyeon’s knees, scoops him up. Junmyeon squeaks at the suddenness of it, but he soon dissolves into giggles when Yifan sends him a grin, all sheepish but charming. Yifan gently places Junmyeon on the bed and the first thing he does is untie the ribbon around his hair.

Thick, silver hair cascades down Junmyeon’s shoulder and Yifan is amazed by the softness of it. He winds his fingers into it, his hand moving higher till his fingers scratch along Junmyeon’s scalp. The younger makes a low satisfying noise, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, exposing that beautiful neck again. Yifan spots the mark he made, blooming burgundy and he wants to make some more. He moves till he is hovering over Junmyeon and the latter opens his eyes just in time so find Yifan’s lips on the side of his neck again, nipping and laving his tongue over every bite he makes.

Junmyeon is pushed back into the pillows, he isn’t completely laid on the bed, still sitting, so he parts his knees, allowing Yifan to slot himself in between. The robe splits in the middle and when Yifan notes Junmyeon is not wearing the standard trousers underneath, his wolfish grin makes Junmyeon shudder in delicious anticipation. One large hand splays on his knee and Yifan scoots down the bed to kiss it. Junmyeon bites his lip, wondering what the lord will do next. Yifan smirks up at him before scooting back some more, his hand now curled around Junmyeon’s ankle. 

Yifan is astounded at first at the knowledge that Junmyeon is bare underneath. But the sight of unblemished skin, taut muscles reels him in and he wants to paint them with his marks as well. When he curls his fingers around one delicate ankle, he kisses Junmyeon’s calf and murmurs, suddenly inspired, “Your kiss is heavy and your touch scorches like fire.” He hears Junmyeon gasp and he smiles as he brings his mouth over the other’s thigh. He runs his hand up the inside of it and hears Junmyeon mewl when he brings his mouth over it, eager to suck another burgundy mark into it. He kisses it before resuming, “And I worship it.”

Then, Yifan curls his hand around Junmyeon’s ankle again and tugs. Junmyeon yelps a little and slides down the bed. Yifan reaches over his head and adjusts a pillow underneath his head. He looks down and the sight of Junmyeon panting and flushed underneath him somehow sends all his blood pooling in his loins. The acolyte’s hair fans out on the pillow and the yellow lights melt into his skin, tinting him so pretty and Yifan wants to ravish every inch of this perfection underneath him. So, he kisses Junmyeon again, stealing all his breath and all the small sounds he makes.

Junmyeon can feel his blood burning when Yifan presses kisses and words into his skin. Yifan said worship and he feels  _that,_ a veneration so keen and obvious that it pulls him further down the lust he is drowning in. Then, Yifan is kissing him again and he can feel the other’s hand moving over the knot on his robe, eager to take it off. Just when the knot comes apart, Yifan asks, his lips brushing against Junmyeon’s temple, “Are you sure you want me Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon takes a deep breath and looks directly into Yifan’s eyes, “Yes, yes. I am sure of it as surely as the sun rises from the east Yifan.”

Yifan smiles as he slides the robe open. He pulls away and takes his time to look at Junmyeon; and he is in awe at how every inch of Junmyeon is perfect. He spreads his fingers on Junmyeon’s sternum, his fingers tracing along firm muscles and skin as smooth as silk. He whispers, his gaze burning into Junmyeon, “Bring me your lust in the morning and bring me relief...”

Junmyeon licks his lips, bared underneath Yifan’s reverent gaze and deep, honey voice. He watches with bated breath as Yifan takes his own robe off and moves to the side, his arm disappearing under the bed. He pulls out a vial of oil and Junmyeon swallows, his body trembling with the thought of what’s to come. He parts his legs, spreading them, muttering, “Please...”

The room is filled with the heady scent of the oil, sweet and musky. Yifan generously douses his fingers in it and runs one finger gently over Junmyeon’s rim, who groans, throwing his head into pillow, “Please, Yifan, I need you, please.”

Yifan heeds and dedicates himself to slowly open Junmyeon up. The younger is hot and tight around his fingers and Yifan bites back a growl imagining how it would be like to sink into that. Meanwhile, Junmyeon thrashes underneath him, his hair a wild mess as he keeps asking for more. At each drag against his walls, Junmyeon loses a bit more of his semblance, and he cannot think of anything beyond the sweet torture wrecking him apart. He wants, no,  _needs_ more. 

Junmyeon's face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and it travels down his body. His cock is erect and curving against his abdomen, his thighs trembling. Yifan muses that he has never seen anything quite this enthralling. He wipes his fingers on the bedsheet and prepares himself, stroking himself slowly as he finds Junmyeon’s eager, hungry gaze on him, his swollen lips parted as the other watches him.

Junmyeon raises a hand towards Yifan, and the other doesn’t even ask before he is curving over him, his mouth pressing hard against his. Junmyeon moans into the kiss, and then he feels the blunt tip of Yifan’s cock press against his rim. He is not pushing any further but it is enough for Junmyeon to breathe harder, tug a little harsher at Yifan’s lower lip. Yifan leans back and his cock arches up, brushing against Junmyeon’s perineum and the latter almost misses Yifan saying, “Bring me relief and your blessing in the evening.”

Junmyeon feels his heart thud against his chest, the organ almost pushing out through his ribs when he understands. It is a prayer, an offering to some god or goddess of, perhaps, lust or love. The fact that Yifan is uttering such words of devotion to him makes it harder to breathe, to focus on anything but the heat engulfing them whole. Junmyeon cups Yifan’s face and murmurs, “Take it from me then, all of it Yifan.”

Yifan feels a shiver pass through his body at those grey eyes, hooded and burning, gazing deeply at him. He slowly pushes in, every inch breaching and Junmyeon’s mouth opens in a silent moan and his head turns to the side, his eyes squeezed shut. It hurts, even if the slick of the oil helps the movement, it still burns. He feels Yifan kissing along his neck and collar, trying to soothe him while his fingers wrap around his cock, moving achingly slow. His lips move, his words dripping onto Junmyeon, thick like honey and laced with passion, “Your kiss is honey and your touch scorches like fire, and I worship it.” 

Junmyeon gasps, at the words and at the way his muscles are slowly relaxing. He groans, “Yifan, move—" And he does, making Junmyeon moan, wanton and delirious at the slow, agonising way Yifan pushes into him again.

“I worship your thighs and your eyes and your lips,” Yifan whispers as he bottoms out, his words stretching into a low moan. He closes his eyes as Junmyeon unintentionally clamps down on him.

Junmyeon wraps his hands around Yifan’s biceps as he feels his eyes welling up, if in pain or pleasure, he cannot tell. Yifan opens his eyes and holds his gaze as he pulls back again, thrusting in harder this time. His voice is still low, raspy and sinful as he says, “Let me walk in dark places unharmed...”

Junmyeon moans when Yifan rolls his hips, his cock prodding against the exact spot that has him seeing stars behind his lids. “...and let me come to you once more and sleep beside you and make love with you.”

Yifan pants and he is amazed with the ease the words fall from his lips. He remembers them from some obscure text he read ages ago, and with Junmyeon trembling underneath him, his face twisted in the throes of pleasure, Yifan deems these are the right words, so he continues as he picks up his speed and thrusts faster, harder, chasing his and Junmyeon’s release, “I worship you with everything that is within me, and everything inside my mind.”

Junmyeon groans, “Yes, oh my god, yes _...Yifan_!” He nearly screams when Yifan’s cock scrapes along his wall, pressing into his prostate again  _and again,_  and when the fingers on his cock starts stroking him with abandon, he cries. He closes his eyes and mewls, “God, this feels, you...” He bites down on his lips, unable to form the words he wants to say, his mind only filled with Yifan’s cock ploughing into him, his senses overwhelmed by the scent, the heat of their sex.

Then, he feels fingers tugging his lower lip free from his teeth and he opens his eyes to Yifan licking his lips. Their lips meet in a frenzied kiss, their tongue sliding against each other. Yifan swallows his moans and the hand on his cock is gone but the friction between their bodies alone is driving Junmyeon insane. Yifan pulls back first, a string of saliva connects their lips and he murmurs,  _“_ Your eyes are stars, burning in the firmament, and your lips are gentle waves that lick the sand, and I worship them.”

Junmyeon inhales shakily, the heat in his abdomen expanding, filling every crevice of his being and he thrashes, his head pressed on the side, the veins in his neck popping out as he realises he is on the precipice and he will fall, soon. He winds his own hand down between their sweat-slick bodies and starts stroking himself. Another hand joins him and when Yifan presses his thumb into the slit, Junmyeon unravels in the most unrestrained yet intense way and through his orgasm, he hears Yifan say, “Bring me your gift, your one true gift, and me always like this, always, so I pray.”

Ropes of cum splash on their bodies and Junmyeon shudders when Yifan still heaves into him, his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed. Junmyeon moans, his body still pulling Yifan in deeper and deeper, and he croons, his voice trembling, “Yifan, Yifan...”

The way his name snakes out of those red, bruised lips, and in that blissed out voice pushes Yifan to the edge, with the tightness almost smothering him down there, his entire body shakes before the pressure unfurls and he climaxes. He slumps over Junmyeon, who makes incoherent sounds as he feels Yifan coating his walls. His mouth is near Yifan’s ear and the other chuckles a little at the nonsense dribbling out of him. He kisses one shoulder as he finishes the invocation, “I worship you with my body.”

Junmyeon smiles as he nuzzles his face into Yifan’s neck. The taller man slowly pulls out and Junmyeon whimpers at the sudden emptiness, and downright fumes when he sees Yifan pushing himself off. The older man cups his face and grins, “I will be right back.”

As said, Yifan leaves the bed but returns soon after with a wet cloth. He gently cleans Junmyeon and himself up before lying down on his belly on the bed. Junmyeon turns on his side and smiles, which knocks Yifan’s breath away again. He asks, “Are you all right?”

Junmyeon chuckles and his face darkens as he looks away to reply, “Never better.” He looks up to see Yifan grinning down at him and he turns to lie on his back as he asks, “The words, what were they?”

“It is an invocation to the goddess Bilquis,” Yifan answers, moving closer to Junmyeon.

“Bilquis? I have never heard of her,” the acolyte asks, confused.

Yifan chuckles, “She isn’t worshipped in our lands, but she is from a land far away—a land of sand and eternal heat, or so I read.”

Junmyeon turns to look at Yifan again and he feels his face warming up as he asks, “But, why tell them to me?”

Yifan puts an arm around Junmyeon’s waist and tucks him against his side. Junmyeon widens his eyes for a second before he embraces Yifan back by putting his hand on his lower back. Yifan explains, “Because, you are divine Junmyeon.” Junmyeon hides the blush creeping onto his face by bowing his head, but Yifan pulls his chin up with a forefinger and kisses him, his lips moving in a languid, tender way that makes Junmyeon’s toes curl. As the kiss ends, Junmyeon smiles up at Yifan, a satisfied, lazy smile and the latter realises he is not quite ready to give that up. He will find a way to make Junmyeon his.

But for now, lying entangled in this bed with the scent of frangipani seeping into the room thanks to the gentle breeze coming through the balcony, is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> there you go mother sheep, i hope you liked it


End file.
